Questions
by LexusGrey
Summary: Written for a challenge. SinandMisery's Finish It All Off Fiacthon. Catherine questions Sara.


Catherine has a past and it's dark and a little messed up. That's okay though, this is Vegas where everyone has a past. Then there's Sara who doesn't talk about her past and Catherine wonders if Sara's is maybe more than a little messed up.

And now something has happened with Hank, Sara's boyfriend, and Catherine wonders if this might be her one opportunity to draw Sara out of her self-imposed shell. "Beer?"

Sara smirks, staring straight out the front windshield. "Drive."

Catherine shifts into gear and drives like an asshole all the way to a little hole-in-the-wall bar that she doesn't think very many people even know exists besides herself and the few regulars and the monetarily-challenged who sleep on the heated patio. "There are rules," she states as she pulls into a parking space and kills the engine.

"Rules?" Sara asks, obviously skeptical.

"My rules," Catherine elaborates. "You have to have more than one beer, and you can't refuse to answer any of my questions. In return, same goes for me."

"I can ask you anything I want?"

"As long as you're prepared for the possible answers," Cat grins and gets out, slamming the door and waiting for Sara to follow before she engages the automatic locks.

"And what happens if I refuse to answer a question?"

"You will invoke my wrath. It won't be pretty, Sidle. I suggest you just stick to the rules." Her grin shows she's probably teasing, but the twinkle in her eye says that maybe she's not.

Sara just raises an eyebrow and follows Catherine into the bar. It's impossible for Catherine to tell what she's thinking.

"Yo, Kitty Cat!" a familiar voice calls from behind the bar, waving a dishrag in the air in greeting. As the two approach and sit on two stools at one end, the bartender puts down her rag and has an eye-feast up and down Sara's body. "And look what the Cat dragged in..."

Catherine thinks that Sara might not appreciate that, but she watches as her colleague returns the hungry gaze, and the words out of Sara's mouth surprise her.

"If you think she's strong enough to drag me anywhere..." She lets the rest of her sentence trail off, clicking her tongue with a shake of her head.

Catherine's jaw drops and she turns to stare at Sara. "You don't think so, huh?"

"Rawr," the bartender says, giving both ladies a wink and drawing their attention. "What can I get you'se?"

"Two of whatever you have on tap," Catherine answers, not letting Sara order for herself.

"Is that part of the rules? I can't order my own drink?" Sara drawls, her attention back on Catherine now.

"No, that's just because I know what's good here. Shut up and enjoy your beer," Catherine snaps back as the bartender sets their mugs in front of them. She tosses out a ten dollar bill and picks up her drink, turning her body on her stool to fully face Sara. "Cheers."

"Cheers."

And they both drink, eyeing each other, not wanting to be the first to stop. Sort of an unspoken contest to see who can drink faster, and by extension who is the tougher woman. Turns out they're evenly matched because they both finish at the same time and slam their mugs back down on the counter. They stare at each other for a minute, and Catherine speaks first.

"What's your favorite thing to do?"

Sara opens her mouth to answer and Catherine interrupts with a finger pointing at Sara knowingly.

"If you say work, I'll kill you."

Sara grins and slaps Catherine's hand away. "I like working, but it's not my favorite," she says coyly. "I like to read."

"Read?" Catherine scoffs. "God, that's boring."

"What do you want me to say, Catherine?" Sara asks with a shrug.

"I don't know, have sex or go dancing or jump out of airplanes at twelve thousand feet, anything but working and reading!" Catherine says animatedly, waving her hands in the air for emphasis.

"You asked for *my* favorite thing to do, not *yours*," Sara reminds her cheekily.

Catherine rolls her eyes and signals for another round of beers. A few seconds later they're set down and Cat pays, but this time there's no contest. They've already established that they can match each other's drinking habits.

Sara takes about half of her second mug in one go, then kicks Catherine lightly and asks, "did you ever have sex with your clients at the French Palace?"

Catherine's jaw drops and she kicks Sara back, a little harder than can be considered playful. "Fuck you, I didn't!" she says, unsure whether to be amused or offended. "Did you ever have sex with your clients at the coroner's office?"

Sara chokes on her drink, spitting beer out all over the counter, and erupts into incredulous laughter. "Nice, Catherine. Nice."

Catherine grins, pleased with herself, and downs half of her own mug before insisting, "you have to answer."

"Okay no, I did not," Sara says, still laughing, as she grabs a napkin and wipes up the mess. "I don't have any more questions. Just interrogate me if you want, there's obviously something you want to know about me that you're afraid to ask."

"I'm not afraid, I'm just considerate of your feelings," Catherine says, finishing her second beer and placing a hand over her heart.

"Oh bullshit," Sara laughs, shaking her head. "Just get on with it."

Catherine's amusement slowly fades as she thinks about the things she really wants to know about Sara. If she asks them, she knows their light-hearted banter is going to end, and at best Sara might answer some questions, but at worst she might completely freak out and demand to be driven back to the lab, and never speak to Catherine again. "Well," she says hesitantly, "I was just curious about you in general. I don't really know much about you, other than where you used to work and the fact that you're smart."

"Why do you care?" Sara asks, and she's not being rude, she's clearly just genuinely wondering.

"I don't know, maybe I'm just stubborn and nosy," Catherine shrugs, not willing to admit that she might actually *like* Sara. "Where did you grow up, do you have any brothers or sisters, what were your parents like, how did you get interested in forensics, you know, all that stuff that co-workers usually know about each other."

Sara's smile disappears, replaced by a look of frustration that Catherine doesn't quite understand. "Why did you have to ask that?" Sara sighs, pushing her unfinished mug away from her. "I was having a good time."

Catherine debates taking back the question, but now she *really* wants to know. "Just tell me and get it overwith," she says instead, knowing she's being insensitive but too curious to let it go.

Sara's eyes look haunted as Catherine watches her struggle with whether to talk. "I grew up in Tamales Bay, I have a brother, I've been interested in forensics since I was thirteen." Her voice is hollow, as if she's translating something into english from another language rather than talking about herself.

Catherine scoots her stool closer and rests a hand on Sara's leg. The brunette jumps as if she's been burned, but once she realizes it's just Catherine, she settles, resting her elbows on the bar and dropping her head into her hands. "You didn't tell me about your parents," Cat says quietly.

"Because there's nothing to tell," Sara snaps. "Leave it alone, Catherine."

"No. I want to know," Catherine insists.

"It's none of your business, Cat," Sara continues to resist.

"They were awful, weren't they? Or they were great and they passed away?"

"They were not great," Sara hisses, clenching her teeth and her fists, refusing to look at Catherine now. "They used me as a punching bag. Are you happy now? Does that make you fucking happy, Catherine?" she shouts, shoving her barstool backwards so hard as she stands up that it topples over and lands on its side with a crash.

Catherine is too stunned to react at first, but when she realizes what Sara has just implied, she shoots off of her stool as well, but doesn't step closer to Sara. "No, that doesn't make me happy," she says softly.

"Right. Right," Sara says bitterly. "Now you're going to feel sorry for me, bend over backwards to make sure I'm comfortable, keep all the hard cases away from me, and tell everyone at the lab so they can all walk on eggshells and shoot me pitying glances when they think I can't see them, right?" She's still yelling.

"No," Catherine whispers. "I feel sorry that it happened to you, yes, but I won't keep any cases away from you or tell anyone at the lab."

Sara snorts derisively and swipes at the tears stinging her eyes. "You didn't promise not to bend over backwards to make sure I'm comfortable," she points out.

"The only time I'd bend over backwards for you, Sara Sidle, is if I was getting something out of it."

Sara stares at her for the longest time, and she can see the multitude of emotions flitting across Sara's features, and finally the tension fades away and the brunette laughs. "Of course," she says. "I'm sorry, Catherine."

"No apologies necessary," Cat assures her, now comfortable enough to move into Sara's personal space. She steps closer and reaches up to rest her hands on Sara's shoulders, giving a light squeeze. "Thank you for telling me."

"You pushed me into it," Sara says wryly.

Catherine grins broadly and the next thing she knows, she's being kissed. It's the last thing she expected, and she wants to pull back, to make sure Sara knows what she's doing, to make sure Sara realizes *who* she's kissing, but she can't, because Sara tastes too good to give up. Even if it's a mistake, she'll take it, because no one has ever kissed her like this. It's unexpected and yet it feels like they've done it a hundred times before.

When Sara finally pulls back, Catherine's lips are burning. "Wow," she says, unable to think of anything better, as she runs her tongue over her lips in a bit of amazement.

Sara's blushing, and she raises her hand toward the bartender, but Catherine stops her.

"Don't drink it away," she pleads, because for some reason, even if Sara never kisses her again, she can't stand the thought of either of them regretting that it happened.

Sara looks sheepish, but lowers her hand, clearing her throat before telling Catherine, "I was going to order a drink for *you*."

Catherine's grin is back, and she moves even closer to Sara, their bodies almost touching. "I don't want to drink it away either," she whispers, her fingertips fluttering over her own mouth, remembering the feeling of Sara's lips on hers.

"So you're not going to slap me?" Sara asks, one corner of her mouth quirking up in a hopeful half-smile.

"No," Catherine breathes, her fingertips now going to play with the hem of Sara's sweater, and she looks up at the slightly taller woman, hoping that her expression conveys her wish to be kissed again. She's not sure if Sara's getting the idea, so she moves her face closer, and drops her gaze to Sara's mouth, and just waits. She notes the surprise on Sara's face, and the hesitation, but Sara kisses her again, and she closes her eyes, leaning into the kiss, making a little noise of encouragement. She wants to taste Sara's tongue.

Sara doesn't try to deepen the kiss, so Catherine opens her mouth and slides her hands underneath Sara's sweater, and under her tank top as well, to stroke the bare skin of her stomach. Sara gasps, and finally seems to realize that Catherine really *wants* this, or that she's not simply having a bizarre dream, because her tongue slowly finds its way into Catherine's mouth, and Cat digs her fingernails into Sara's stomach with a quiet moan.

Sara's tongue tastes even better than her lips, and as it flicks against Catherine's in a subtle greeting, the blonde melts a little and grips Sara tighter with her hands. She can forget where they are, forget who might be watching, as long as Sara never stops.

Only when Sara breaks the kiss to ask breathlessly, "Catherine, what are you doing?" does Catherine realize that her hands have slipped higher, her fingers trying to tug Sara's bra out of her way.

She flushes and drops her hands, but not before risking a quick brush over Sara's nipples, which she delights to find are hard beneath her touch. "Sorry," she says, but she's not sorry at all.

"No you're not," Sara says with a lopsided grin, taking hold of Catherine's hands to pull them out of her sweater. "I don't want to have sex with you in a bar."

Catherine chooses to interpret that as a positive thing, and asks quietly, "but you *do* want to have sex with me?"

Sara laughs a little, maybe even blushing a little, too, but she nods. "Yes."

"Thank God," Catherine says, rolling her eyes with relief. "Let's go."


End file.
